


Before the first Earl Grey

by Squishy91, xxemily92xx



Category: James Bond - All Media Types
Genre: 00Q - Freeform, BAMF Q, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-08
Updated: 2017-06-08
Packaged: 2018-11-11 07:44:54
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,740
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11143983
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squishy91/pseuds/Squishy91, https://archiveofourown.org/users/xxemily92xx/pseuds/xxemily92xx
Summary: Q had claimed he could do more damage on his computer before his first cup of Earl Grey than Bond could do in the field in a year.This particular morning, Q does just that.





	Before the first Earl Grey

**Author's Note:**

> First foray into 00Q, please comment and let us know what you think :D

The trip on the tube was subdued. Passengers tugged their coats closer and shuffled on and off the platform, the sky overhead a dull grey and the windows flecked with the beginnings of what promised to be a significant downpour. People in cities, despite being so far removed from the natural world, still seemed to retain some sense of survival instinct to mind their own damn business. For this, the bedraggled young man was infinitely thankful, as he ran a hand through mussed brown hair jerkily.

Glaring out the windows and across the monotones of the city with stubble and a dark look in his eyes, the young man stomped his way through the double doors as they opened with a pneumatic hiss, pointedly not touching the worn plastic grips as he made his way to an empty seat. Folding his hands in his lap and muttering darkly to himself, the other passengers wisely gave him a wide berth as the train shunted to a start.

Buildings flashed by as the train continued its transit, and still the young man continued his litany of irritation. A young boy leaned closer inquisitively only to be quickly tugged back by his mothers hand on his shoulder, the woman shooting alarmed looks at the impeccably postured man quietly snarling profanities in row 17.

After what seemed an eternity the locomotive finally jolted to a stop, the grainy pa exclaiming something unintelligible as the young man disembarked.

Head bowed and clutching tightly to the shoulder strap of his satchel, the brunet allowed himself to be swallowed by the anonymity of the morning London crowd rushing from the train terminal and out into the street, the snap of hundreds of umbrellas and pattering of rain masking the usual sounds of the busy city traffic.

The young man trudged on, pausing only to yank up the hood of his dark green parker. Turning sharply right into a barely visible side alley, he stomped up to a brown door, the paint peeling and flecked with age. Maintenance was barely legible in faded yellow letters, and with a heavy clunk the door shuddered open, the bottom of the door scraping against the dark concrete flooring within. Still grumbling to himself, the now soaked and generally bedraggled brunet kicked it shut behind him, the narrow corridor plunging into darkness.

Jerking the hood of his Parker back and swiping the wet mess of his fringe aside, the young man approached the end of the corridor and tapped out a code into the keypad fixed to the wall. A small green light flickered and a second later a small indent in the wall hissed and expanded, revealing a slim chrome door.

Storming up to the retina scanner with the sharp slap of wet shoes on smooth concrete, he paused long enough for the scan to hum its completion before he was off again, teeth grit in annoyance and defiance of the shivers stubbornly attempting to shake his resolve. Turning again into yet another hallway, he ignored the dozen other scans and checks that went on in the background, their presence undetectable to the human eye.

No doubt the denizens within were aware of his presence by now.

Restraining himself from outright snarling, the young man ignored the long stares and outright fear his march down the hall invoked. A middle aged man pressed himself against the wall as he passed, eyes wide like a cornered gazelle. Approaching the final pair of doors at a steady clip, the brunet shoved them open with both hands.

The doors swung open with a hard bang on the wall behind, and a young blonde woman looked up sharply in alarm, the lone occupant of the large room of computers and technology. Standing in before change of shift, then. Taking in his appearance, she stumbled from behind her desk, hands raising in front of her uselessly.

Q glared.

"Q-quartermaster?" she asked shrilly, wide eyed and glancing down at her watch, "it's 5 o'clock in the morning on your day off and you're soaking wet!"

Ignoring the idiotic statement for what it was, Q continued on to his personal desk nestled at the back of the room.

"Sir," she paused, heels clicking against the flooring in an aborted step forward, "...are those your pyjamas?"

Q stopped walking.

"Janice," he growled hoarsely, barely containing his rage, "tea. Now."

A scuffle of shoes against the concrete and a small whimper echoed through the operations room as Janice took off at a dead run through the nearest doorway. Grimacing at the wet slop of his no doubt ruined slippers, Q pushed the drenched hair from his forehead and approached his work station.

The familiar hum of the computer went a long way to quelling his black mood, enough that he only snapped expletives a handful of times (though judging by the shocked gasp from Janice's direction the curses remained imaginatively colorful). Voices and what could only be described as the general bangs and crashes of Q-branch gradually increased in volume as the minions steadily flooded in for the shift change.

As the computer finished booting up, the machine ran its usual series of identification processes and security checks. Q intercepted the red flag caused by his lack of glasses and unusual appearance in a series of quick strokes, long musician fingers effortlessly gliding over computer keys. Frowning heavily, he pulled up a series of cctv footage, maps, restaurant reviews and tourist photos.

Several minutes later, the slow but deliberate snap of high heels against concrete reached his ears. Q continued his work, Moneypenny staring bemusedly a meter or two behind his desk. The woman said nothing, content to watch the various pieces of information flash across the monitors in silence.

A single word lit up on the screen left her reeling.

Egypt.

"007..." She murmured, and Q's typing paused for a half second, the muscles in his back tensing.

And then he was launching back into his technological rhapsody, keys clacking like nothing had happened. If she hadn't seen the split second reaction from so close, she doubted she'd have noticed anything at all.

Moneypenny smirked.

The only mission currently taking place in Cairo had been assigned to 007, his objective currently to locate and neutralize the members of two terrorist cells who had a meeting set in the area in approximately four hours. The agent had called in at 4.30am to advise he would require support to find all the members before the meeting could take place in order to complete the mission.

And naturally, the MI6 quartermaster had obliged despite taking a day of leave for personal reasons, if she recalled correctly.

Soggy pyjamas and ruined slippers be damned.

Q ignored the woman behind him, mind whirring with the thrill of the chase. His scrabble mug appeared, disappeared, and then reappeared periodically, the harried Janice replacing his tea as it remained untouched. It wasn't until 5:55am Q leaned back from his keyboard, eyes never leaving the screen as long fingers blindly reached for his tea, the mug smoothly lifted to his lips in a practiced motion. Glancing at the time displayed in a corner of his screen, Q frowned. 55 minutes? It almost made him cringe.

At his back Moneypenny surreptitiously straightened her pencil skirt, pushing from the desk she had subtly been leaning on in interest. Dozens of Q-branch personnel hovered tensely, the majority summoned by a branch wide notification among the underlings for unusual behavior for the quartermaster, the system unanimously deemed necessary as this was generally a sign of higher workloads and stress. Not to mention miffed agents.

Right on cue, a call came from the comms.

The handler on call glanced at Q, waiting for the latter's go ahead before connecting the call to speaker. White noise sounded for a moment, before a familiar voice cut through the graininess.

"This is Bond," the agent intoned sharply, "I need someone to tell me what the hell is happening here!"

"007, this is R," Q's second in command responded smoothly. "What is the situation?" The man adjusted the large screens on the wall to display camera footage of the agent's location, the man clearly hunched over behind a extravagant water feature. Q was half tempted to take a still of Bond's thoroughly confused face (for blackmail purposes) but comforted himself with the knowledge he had the video to fall back on.

"I received a text from no bloody number telling me to hide behind a fountain just as I was about to eliminate my target. Only to have the bloody building explode."

Q sighed.

Taking command of the comms with a nod to R, the quartermaster leaned forward.

"007, this is Q. I apologize for the shock; I know a man of your advanced years can be easily startled," the quartermaster said in his most agreeable tone, ignoring the indignant huff from the other end of the line. He paused to take a leisurely sip of his rapidly cooling tea. "Next time, I'll be sure to explain the situation before giving orders to save your life."

The sound of a pin dropping could be heard in the silence of Q-branch.

"Are you- you blew up the building?" The agent questioned, disbelief heavy in his tone.

"I did not physically set the c4, no," he explained as if to a small child, a put upon sigh leaving his lips. Turning to the large monitors on his desk, Q folded his hands behind his back. "I merely found which members of the Nusar gang had access to explosives, which had bank accounts that could be cleaned out and which had family members in vulnerable positions. Each appropriate member then received a multitude of letters, mysterious phone calls and texts with specific threats, courtesy of the rival 'Shadow Snake' gang. In fact, our explosive friend here was particularly easy to convince. Coincidentally, his pregnant wife was admitted to hospital due to an allergic reaction. A few moments of tweaking and the doctor's report now claims her symptoms as the effects of poison by an unknown substance." Q reached to adjust his glasses, only to grimace as he recalled they were still on his bedside table.

The wall screen displayed Bond's eyebrows steadily climbing throughout the quartermaster's explanation. Finishing his tea, Q placed the scrabble mug back on the desk with a low thud, the sound reverberating in the quiet of Q-branch.

"And you did all of this in...roughly an hour?" Bond asked weakly, and Q made a small annoyed sound.

"55 minutes, approximately."

"55 minutes? What took so long?" the agent joked as the cctv showed him emerging from behind the fountain, straightening his suit.

Not that the prat had done anything, Q thought irritably.

"On a good day it would have been done in half the time," Q agreed, "I must be losing my edge. You would know a thing or two about that, correct?"

Bond pressed a hand to his ear, shooting the security camera a mock puzzled look. "Pardon? Sorry, couldn't quite make out that last part, must be my tech. They don't make them like they used to, you know."

"Perhaps that's simply your age showing, a little hard of hearing these days perhaps?"

"Hmm, what was that? Still can't hear you," Bond teased, putting his sunglasses on and sliding into a sleek silver sports car.

Q shook his head, "I said you're getting old, 007!"

"I believe the phrase is 'experienced', " the agent shot back.

Q scoffed. "Is that so?"

"I'll bet I could teach you a couple things," he finished, voice dropping to a sultry baritone.

Q felt the beginnings of a flush prickle at his skin, and behind him he swore he heard a very unladylike snort of amusement. A quick glance around the room revealed almost all of Q-branch watching the exchange with rapt attention, and Q gave an awkward cough to clear his suddenly dry throat.

Brilliant.

Bond smirked wide, the video feed switching to the dash cam in his car. Staring straight at the camera, the twat actually had the audacity to waggle his eyebrows.

"I'll bet you say that to all the pretty quartermasters," he managed, and as Bond opened his mouth (surely to deliver some hilarious one liner, no doubt), Q quickly continued. "I've taken the liberty of emailing your return flight details, so be a dear and don't miss it."

"You got it," the agent said easily, quite content with himself, Q imagined. A few easy key strokes later the quartermaster smirked.

"Enjoy your flight, 007. We'll see you in a few days!"

Bond's expression morphed into one of concern. "Wait, wha-"

Q cut the connection, fighting a grin despite himself and settling for an exasperated sigh instead.

Turning away from his screens, Q shot the gathered minions a glare. Instantly, Q-branch personnel were falling over themselves to get back to work, several actually lunging across desks in their haste.

Moneypenny faced the screens displaying the smoking rubble of the building in Cairo, Q's scan displaying zero life signs within. A perfect killing of over fifty people in swift move. Q felt his stomach twist uncomfortably as she fixed him with a unreadable expression.

"Q...what is all this?"

Q shifted in unease. "I can assure you that despite these actions potentially opening MI6 to a multitude of potential repercussions, I have taken every measure to cover my tracks before they are formed..." He trailed off, taking in the woman's expression. "But that isn't what you are asking, is it?"

Moneypenny gave him a look of concern. "If you were anyone else, this morning would be cause for an immediate psych eval." When Q looked ready to interject, she shook her head. "No, we both know that isn't my intention. This," she waved to the monitor, "makes me worry, not just as an agent but a friend." Q sighed, scrubbing a hand through his hair, eyes falling to his slippers.

"I...I don't like being that person anymore." The quartermaster raised his face, eyes glinting with steel. "I don't like to be that person, but I will if it is necessary. And today it was necessary." The woman tilted her head slightly, gauging his words, before nodding.

Q rubbed a hand across the back of his neck, shoulders sagging slightly as the day caught up with him. "You know, I did warn Bond once, Eve."

Moneypenny leaned a hip on the desk. "Oh?"

The quartermaster nodded. "I told him, I can do more damage on my computer before my first cup of Earl Grey than he can do in a year in the field." The young man said this frankly, without a hint of bravado.

Simple fact.

"So... Bond." Moneypenny drawled, inspecting her immaculate cuticles as the quartermaster bristled.

Wordlessly, Q held up his finger. Not the one he wanted, but it would do.

Moneypenny raised her eyebrows.

"No."

"Come now, Q, I haven't even said anything yet. Adorable pyjamas, by the way."

Q kept his chin high, "I'll have you know there is nothing adorable about the Death Star, first of all." Ignoring the woman's scoff, he plowed ahead. "Secondly, I would really rather not deal with any more sass this early in the morning, wet pyjamas and ruined day off, aside," he finished, perhaps a little sharper than he intended.

Moneypenny gave him a long look, gaze assessing. Whatever she found made her sigh. "Fine. But we will be speaking of this later," she warned. Q waved her off tiredly, crossing his arms against the chill creeping in from his wet clothes.

Regally, he nodded to her. "Now if you'll excuse me, I've a spare suit to change into and a light sabre tournament to attend."

Head held high and valiantly ignoring the squidgy sound of his slippers, the quartermaster disappeared into his office.

Moneypenny shook her head in amusement, and Janice returned to refill the quartermaster's tea once more. Before the woman could leave, the brunette cleared her throat.

"Yes, ma'am?"

Striding forward, Moneypenny paused by the blonde's elbow. "Double my bet, if you'd be so kind."

Janice's eyes widened. "That's quite a significant amount, did something happen?" The other woman smirked, elegantly striding away.

"Let's just say I'm feeling rather confident something will," she drawled over her shoulder, her heels clicking against the concrete in a sharp staccato rhythm.

 

 

 


End file.
